


One Thousand Butterflies

by CaptainLeBubbles



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Mundane, Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, F/M, Inspired by Mamma Mia! (Movies), M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21566878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLeBubbles/pseuds/CaptainLeBubbles
Summary: James is sent to run his family’s estate in Vale and hopefully secure an engagement with a young gentleman in the area, but a wrench is thrown into the works when he realizes that his new valet is a man he’s been pining for for ten years. Meanwhile, Patch’s most eligible bachelor, Tai, is being pushed to move on from his first love after she abandoned him. James is his most logical choice, but the steward of the Ironwood estate has her eye on him, too.Storyboarded to the Mamma Mia soundtracks because I can't just write a story like a normal person.
Relationships: Glynda Goodwitch & James Ironwood, Glynda Goodwitch/Original Female Character(s), James Ironwood & Winter Schnee, James Ironwood/Taiyang Xiao Long, Qrow Branwen & Taiyang Xiao Long, Qrow Branwen/James Ironwood, Raven Branwen/Taiyang Xiao Long, Summer Rose/Taiyang Xiao Long
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32





	1. Prologue: I Have A Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I was going to wait until I had some buffer built to start posting this but fuck! buffers I want instant gratification.
> 
> This one is going to be a bit weird because I've never framed/formatted a story quite this way so I hope you're excited to have this journey with me.
> 
> Soundtracks, for reference: [Mamma Mia!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGYY8kGFzgQ) | [Mamma Mia!: Here We Go Again](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IWGZzY_wd1s)
> 
> Individual chapter songs will be linked at the beginning of each chapter; I'll edit the prologue song into this one when I post the next chapter, since Ao3 has a weird format.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: [I Have A Dream](https://youtu.be/9RrtS46SqhM)

-/-

James finished packing his last bag, his personal effects, and set it down with the rest. From the end of his bed, Glynda watched him while he went through his room one last time to ensure nothing necessary had been left behind, then took a seat beside her.

“I assume you’re all packed,” he said.

“Yes. What time does our ship take off?”

“Seven.”

“Pretty early.”

“I know, but I’d like to get to Patch at a reasonable hour to talk with my Steward about anything that needs to be discussed. We’d be leaving tonight if Mother hadn’t insisted on a farewell dinner.”

“You’re going away for a very long time, James, maybe even permanently.” She touched his elbow, and gave him a pointed look. “Give your mother one last chance to see you before you leave.”

“You’re right.”

“I’m always right.” She leaned back on her elbows, staring up at his ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark paint they’d decorated it with as children had long since faded, and no longer glowed even a little bit, but the swirls of color were a comfort when she thought about what their futures held. She sighed, and flopped all the way back; he gave her a moment, and copied her motion, causing her to bounce a little. “Are you nervous?”

“What’s to be nervous about?” he asked. “I’m moving halfway around the world to learn the running of my family’s Vale estate in the hopes of meeting an eligible young man to marry and join our families. What could I _possibly_ be nervous about?”

“All right, smartass.” She rolled onto her side and reached out to take his hand, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re going to do fine.”

“As far as running the estate goes—“ He shrugged. “That, I think will be easy enough. But finding a husband? Glynda… I’m just…”

“Is it your mystery man?”

He nodded, and threw his free arm over his eyes. “I thought he felt the same way I did, but I left pretty clear instructions and he never… I guess he didn’t feel the same after all. And I keep thinking- if we were meant to be, wouldn’t we have found each other again by now?”

“It doesn’t work like that. No one is ‘meant’ to be, it’s something you have to work at. And he clearly didn’t want to work at it.”

She was unable to keep the judgment out of her voice. He sighed, and turned his head away. He’d heard this a hundred, a thousand times before— Glynda had made her feelings on this matter clear over the years. 

“You just don’t understand.”

“I _do_ understand, I’m just tired of seeing you break your own heart over and over trying to find a man who made his feelings about you clear ten years ago.” She sat up and folded her arms to glare down at him. “You knew him for one weekend. Two days. Two days, James! And you’ve been pining ever since! How is that even a _little_ bit sensible?”

“No one ever said love was sensible.”

“That’s not _love,_ it’s infatuation. Love takes more than two days. Or even two months,” she added.

It was left field enough that it got his attention: James sat up as well and looked over at her, legs crossed under her, glaring haughtily down at her hands folded in her lap. He took a guess.

“Snow?”

“...She’s not happy that I’m leaving for the gods know how long to babysit you on the other side of the world.”

“I don’t blame her, if that’s how you put it. You’re not babysitting me, you’re helping me settle into my new role— and getting some well-needed world-experience of your own in the process.” He added, a little indignantly, “I don’t need a _babysitter.”_

“You need _someone_ to keep you out of trouble.”

He let out a startled laugh at that, and threw a pillow at her. “I do _not._ You’re as bad as Mother. I am perfectly capable of not getting into trouble. And if you’d rather stay here and work on things with Snow—“

She threw the pillow back at him, smacking him right in the face. “I have known her for two months. I’ve known you _since_ I was two months. I’m not picking a tentative relationship over a proven one.”

“Who said you’d be picking? You’re going to be my best friend regardless of the distance between us. Besides, I like Snow. She’s good for you.”

“You just like her because she laughs at your jokes,” she said, and caught the pillow that was tossed her way. “It’s fine. If Snow can’t handle a long distance relationship for a little while, then I’m better off with someone else.”

She lay the pillow in her lap then, staring down at it and focusing on smoothing out the wrinkles and creases on the case rather than look at him. His shoulders fell, and then he pasted on a smug smile.

“We haven’t _quite_ known each other since you were two months old.”

“It feels like it sometimes.”

“Yes, well, given that you’re _eight_ months older than me…”

“It’s called hyperbole, smartass.”

He stuck his tongue out at her, then took her hands in each of his own, drawing her attention back to him. “I’m glad you’re coming with me. I’m not sure I could do this on my own.”

-/-

Tai was buried under seven quilts and five pillows when Qrow came in through the window. He heard the window open and the footfalls on the floorboard as Qrow shed his clothes and (thankfully) put on a pair of Tai’s pajama pants, then the blankets lifted and the bed dipped as Qrow crawled in with him. Wordlessly, Tai lifted his arm and let Qrow snuggle into his side, then yelped when a pair of cold hands pressed against his middle.

“Qrow!” He sat up and glared down at his brother. “Come _on,_ your hands are freezing!”

“Uh, yeah? That’s why I’m trying to warm them up.”

Tai let out a long, drawn out groan and flopped back onto his pillows. “Where have you been, anyway?”

“Out,” Qrow said vaguely, worming his hands under Tai’s back. Tai wiggled away— on top of Qrow’s hands still being freezing, Tai was ticklish. “Went to visit Raven again, see if I can convince her to come back.”

Tai snorted, and rolled over, shoving his head under a pillow. “You’re wasting your time,” was his muffled remark in response. “Raven isn’t going to come back until she’s ready to— assuming she ever is.”

“Yeah, well. Yang deserves to know her mom. I know I can talk her around, I just. Need more time.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Anyway, I won’t have time to visit much coming up. I’m starting my new job today.”

“Oh, right. Any idea how long that’ll take?”

“Until Mother decides I’ve learned my lesson, I guess.”

“You _did_ kind of destroy the town square.”

“And you didn’t stop me. Why aren’t you grounded?”

“Because you’re a grown man and I’m not your babysitter. You’re the one that got drunk and started a riot. That wasn’t my fault.”

Qrow shrugged, and picked up the pillow covering Tai’s head. “You still coulda talked me out of it.”

“Or I could have let you make a fool of yourself, destroy the square, get yourself grounded, and now you won’t be living on the grounds and I won’t have to worry about you crawling into bed with me at the weirdest hours of the night.”

“Taiyang Xiaolong, are you suggesting you don’t like my company?”

“I love your company,” Tai assured him. “I don’t even mind you crawling into bed with me. I _do_ mind that you always seem to think that means you should wake me up. I want to _sleep,_ Qrow. Why do you hate letting me sleep?”

“Hey, misery loves company, pal. Now scoot closer, I need your delicious body heat so I can warm my hands. They’re freezing.”

Tai sighed, and took one of Qrow’s hands between his own, rubbing warmth into it with a patience only known by a man whose friend followed him home from school one year and never left.

Once he’d warmed that one, he swapped to the other, his mind drifting during the tedium of the task: he was wondering if Qrow had actually spoken to Raven, if she’d given any more explanation for her absence, or if she _did_ ever intend to come back. If she was still thinking about him, if she missed him at all, if he meant anything to her—

He blinked out of his far away thoughts when Qrow started snapping his fingers in his face. “Hey, hey. I know that look. Stop thinking about my sister when I’m in bed with you.”

“Sorry,” Tai said, and then thought through that sentence and said, “Qrow, do you think our relationship is weird?”

Qrow gave him a deadpan look. “No. I think most grown men crawl into bed with their twin sister’s ex-fiance who, by the way, only sleeps in his underwear, despite _knowing_ about his brother’s habit of crawling into bed with him. At least I put on pants first, Tai. I’m starting to think Raven wasn’t the only twin you were into.”

“Gross.”

“Thanks.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Are you saying I’m not hot enough for you?”

“You’re my _brother,_ Qrow.”

“And you fucked my sister. You’re right, our relationship is really weird. Probably best not to mention any of this to the new guy, Mother will never get him to marry you if he knows what he’d be marrying into.”

“Oh, gods.” Tai groaned again and shoved his head under another pillow. “I forgot about that.”

“Hey, Raven’s gone and you’ve got a baby to raise. Besides, this Ironwood guy is apparently a step up from, you know, the woman who followed you home from school one year and then never left until after she’d given birth to your bastard child.”

“Don’t call my daughter a bastard,” Tai grumbled into his pillows. Qrow took the pillow over his head again.

“You know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean, I’d still just prefer you didn’t. Yang doesn’t deserve any of this.”

Qrow shrugged, and sighed, and flopped back onto his stolen pillows. He folded his hands over his chest and stared up at the colored glass stones hanging from the ceiling. From the right angle they looked like a dragon in flight; from most angles, they were just a bunch of pretty stones. A metaphor, probably, but Qrow doubted Tai had put that much thought into it.

“We’re gonna be okay, right, Tai?”

“Of course we will.”

“Even if Raven never comes back and you marry Ironwood and I fall in love with service and go off to work for lots of rich assholes?”

Tai laughed, and held his arm up in invitation; Qrow took the invitation and snuggled into his side again.

“Even then. We’re gonna be okay as long as we have each other.”

-/-


	2. Flashback 1: Andante, Andante

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro locks James out of the lab, and he finds himself in a bar, where the barsinger has intentions on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a flashback chapter! James is nineteen in this, which I'm sure you all know means that he is now Teen Punk James. But like, in a nerdy way.
> 
> [This](http://www.leatherexotica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/10/LE-MN-2-600x600.jpg) is the jacket he's wearing, for reference.
> 
> Song for this chapter: [Andante, Andante](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6hNEXuHm8OM)
> 
> Please note that this chapter, and indeed the flashback segments in general, skirt the borders of nsfw.

-/-

“All right, that’s enough pacing from you,” Pietro had said. “You’re not gonna get results faster by wearing a hole into my floor.”

“But we could be on the verge of a breakthrough!” James had laughed. “I’m just excited!”

“I’m excited too! But this is a waiting game right now. We have to _wait_ until the results come back.”

James had just sighed at that, and carried on pacing, until Pietro got into his path, stopping him short.

“That’s it,” he’d said, and started herding James to the door. “I have other work to do and I can’t get it done with you underfoot. So to speak,” he’d added, when James cast a raised eyebrow at his chair. “Go on, get out. You’re in Mantel for a whole weekend, why not go do some sightseeing?”

“I came here to work,” James had reminded him. “Not sightsee.”

“And your work is done for the moment, so take a break! Go out into the city, see what it has to offer. Have a bit of fun, get into some trouble- though not too much, or Lanying will have my head. Go on.” He’d shooed James to the door again. “You work too hard, James. Take some time to enjoy yourself. Otherwise you’ll be grey before you’re thirty. I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

And without further ceremony, he’d turned James out into the Mantelian night and locked the lab.

_ That _ was three hours ago. Now James wandered through the city of Mantel in search of something to do that would satisfy Pietro enough to let him back into the lab, and found himself in front of a narrow staircase leading down to a narrow door set below the city level. He could, vaguely, hear music coming from inside. He stared at it for a long time of indecision, and then made his careful way down the stairs and let himself in.

Inside, the building was a little bit bigger than the door would suggest, but not much. A bar stretched across one wall, and about half a dozen circular tables gathered around a stage at the end, where an ensemble were warming up with soft music that set something stirring in his middle. Almost in a trance, he made his way to one of the tables, absently ordering a brandy-and-soda when a server appeared at his elbow.

There was an air of expectation in the room, in the other patrons of the bar, scattered around the tables. They were watching the stage in anticipation, and while James wondered what the fuss was about, the curtain pushed aside and a figure strode onto the stage.

The figure was tall- not quite as tall as James, and thinner, a scarecrow of a man in a dark waistcoat over a dark shirt, dark pants, but a red tie and red lining on the cape he wore as well. The look was completed by a silver headpiece adorned with black feathers, which all together gave him the appearance of some large black bird.

James’ attention was riveted. While he watched, the lights went down until only the figure was lit, leaning casually on the microphone stand. Eyes closed, the figure swayed a little along to the soft music the ensemble were still making, and James could just make out soft humming, and then the man began to sing.

“Take it easy… with me please… Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze…”

James was pretty sure his heart had stopped beating. While he watched, the man swayed and sang, eyes still closed as if the audience didn’t exist.

“Take your time, make it slow…”

And then his eyes opened, a mischievous sparkle as he sang, “Andante, andante, just let the feeling grow.”

He moved off the stage after that, making a slow sultry way around the room, trailing light fingers over a patron’s shoulder here, pausing to look into a face there… James watched his progress with a yearning he’d never thought it possible to feel for anyone, wondering when it would be his turn.

And then before he knew, the singer’s path had brought him to James as the song began to slow down. The singer took a seat on the table, leaning forward enough that James felt he was the only one in the audience who mattered.

“Andante, andante, please don’t let me down…”

The singer was close enough to touch, and James wanted to- was that allowed? While James stared, wondering, the singer solved the dilemma for him, reaching out his free hand to brush James’ hair back from his face. When James leaned into the touch, he pulled away and stood, backing away, back toward the stage.

“Andante, andante… oh please... don’t let me down…”

And winked, and then he was on stage, distant once more. 

James let out a long, slow breath, not entirely sure what had just happened- and then became aware of something in his hair. He reached up to feel it and found a feather tucked behind his ear, keeping his hair back. He plucked it, letting his bangs fall back into place, and stared at it in awe. Did it mean something? Or was that just part of his act?

The singer had moved onto another song, a more upbeat tune this time, and James looked up to see the man was looking right at him while he sang. He felt his neck heating up, and then his cheeks: was he imagining this?

By the time the man finished his set, James had come to the conclusion that, no, he wasn’t imagining the attention. The singer’s eyes had barely left him while he performed, and as James’ table was set to one side, this couldn’t be dismissed as the easiest place to look. He watched the man disappear back behind the curtain while the ensemble went back to their smooth background music, and made a choice.

-/-

The backroom of the bar was about what James would have expected: it was a tiny room packed with stock, and a small back corner near the bathroom had been curtained off to serve as the singer’s ‘dressing room’. He was there now, already dressed down to shirt and pants, shirttails hanging loose. 

He tossed a grin at James over his shoulder when he spotted him, his mysterious stage presence gone in favor of what James could now see was a cocky young man not much, if any, older than him.

“Hey, big man. Get my message, did you?”

Now that he wasn’t singing, his voice had a pleasantly gravely quality to it: it sounded like rough edges and calluses. James gave him a weak smile. “I wasn’t sure if I’d gotten the right one, actually.”

“Think I should have been less subtle?”

“You were being subtle?”

This got him a startled cackle. “All right, all right, but I had to make sure I got you back here.”

“And why did you want me back here?”

The singer grinned, and reached up, hooking his fingers into the lapel snaps of James’ jacket, tugging him down until their faces were close, so close that their breath mingled between them. He grinned, cross-eyed from the proximity, and murmured, “Take a wild guess, handsome,” before ghosting his lips over James’.

-/-

The curtain around the singer’s corner of the backroom proved to be very useful: when James pinned him back against the wall, the singer reached one hand out and pulled it to, effectively blocking them off from any prying eyes.

“Mind you, sound carries back here,” he added, while he popped the button on James’ pants. “So you’ll have to keep it down, unless you want everyone in the bar to know what you’re up to back here.”

He pushed James’ zip down then, and ran his hands along the waistband, a little surprised to find them still holding up.

“Suspenders? Unexpected.”

“I work with tools a lot,” James said, hand coming up to explore under the singer’s shirt. He found warm skin and pressed his thumb against a hipbone with almost no meat on it. “Do you have a name?”

“Kinda stupid question is that?” The singer had managed to find the clasps of his suspenders and unhooked the right with one hand, the other hand pulling James off of his neck so he could kiss him again. “Course I got a name, everyone’s got a name.”

“Well?”

“Heh.” The singer grinned against his mouth, unclasped his other suspender. “My stage name is Scareqrow. I don’t give out the real one. Privacy issue, you understand.”

“Of course.” The singer- Scareqrow- had managed to finally push James’ pants down, and didn’t waste any time sticking his hand down the front of his boxers with a grin. James’ breath hitched at the sudden touch.

“What about you, hot stuff?” he asked, giving James a wicked grin.

“Ja- Jim,” James gasped.

“Nice to meet ya, Jimmy,” and pushed James back into the chair, following and straddling his thighs with a grin that made a lot of promises.

-/-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take a wild guess who, I mean what, James and Pietro are working on.


	3. Mamma Mia!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Glynda arrive at the estate, where James meets his new valet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: [Mamma Mia!](https://youtu.be/cz1z8wtALK4)

-/-

Glynda fell asleep on James’ shoulder on the flight home. He held very still, careful not to wake her— she could be a little frightening when she didn’t get enough sleep, and besides, he was the one that had dragged her out of bed at oh-gods-thirty that morning for a flight to the other side of the world. The least he could do was let her sleep on his shoulder.

He was staring out the window, deep in thought about the move to Patch, when the ship hit a bit of turbulence and jolted her awake. She made an adorably undignified noise and sat up straight, squinting past him out the window.

“What time’sit?”

“We’re flying over Vale now,” he said, and passed her a tissue to wipe away the drool that had collected on her cheek. He was just glad he’d chosen to forego his usual white for travel— the damp spot on his shoulder would be far less noticeable now.

“Almost time to land, then.”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever been to the estate before?”

“A few times, back when I was just a boy.” He smiled at fond memories. “The estate was a part of my father’s legacy, and he would bring us out sometimes to get away from Atlas. After he passed Mother relegated running the place to our steward— she never liked to come out here without him.”

“Do you remember much about the neighborhood? Playmates? Companions? Anyone we should look up once we arrive?”

“My most initimate friend when I visited was the heir to the Xiaolong name— they’re the principal family in Patch.” He sighed, and returned to looking out the window, and added a quiet, “Mother wants me to focus my attention on him, assuming he isn’t already married. Fortunately my steward has arranged an intimate dinner with some of the nearest neighbors, to welcome us to the neighborhood.”

“That sounds nice. Your steward sounds like a competent woman.”

“She certainly gives that impression. Mother hired her last year when the old one retired, and the estate started turning a profit again almost overnight.” He gave her a weak smile. “I can only hope I can do at least as good a job as she’s done, or Mother might drag me back to Atlas by my ear.”

Glynda gave him a small laugh at that, and touched his shoulder. “You’re going to do fine, James,” and then wrinkled her nose and, “Why is your shoulder wet?”

-/-

Tai and Qrow trailed behind Summer while she made her way through the manor, checking off item after item on her checklist to ensure the place was ready to welcome its master once more. Qrow was along because he would be working in the house until Mother felt he’d paid off his damages to the town square; Tai was just there because both of the people who normally paid attention to him were.

“So you basically turned this place into a goldmine, and now the owners are coming to take it back out from under you?” Qrow asked, folding his hands behind his head and staring up at the chandelier over the dining room table. It tinkled hypnotically above them; he wished he could climb up and touched the dangling baubles, but Summer would probably yell at him if he did.

“That’s not it at all,” Summer said, checking off a few more items on her list and heading toward the kitchen, both men following at a more easy stroll. “The son of the family is coming here so he can get experience managing an estate before taking over the family name.”

“With Summer Rose training wheels,” Tai added.

“Well yes, of course. I’m not going to leave him hanging. Besides, he likely won’t be here for more than a couple of years. Once Lady Ironwood feels he’s ready he’ll return home and I’ll go back to managing the estate for him in his absence.”

“Assuming he wants to leave at all once he and Tai fall in love and get married,” Qrow added, making mocking kissy faces at Tai, who shoved him with an eyeroll.

“Come on, Qrow, knock it off.”

“Knock what off? You know Mother wants you marrying this guy.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I  _ will. _ We might hate each other. You don’t know.”

“Aren’t you two like, childhood friends or something?”

“I mean, I guess? We played together a few times as boys, when his family were in the neighborhood.”

“Well there you go!” Qrow clapped a hand on his shoulder and held out the other as though gesturing at a marquee. “I can see it now— childhood playmates, you’ve hardly thought about each other since you last parted. It’s been twenty years, and now you’re reunited, and the boy you once knew is now a man, handsome, suave, charming— he steals your heart and soon your hand, joining your name with the Ironwood name and, I dunno, doing whatever it is that married people do. Have kids? Pay taxes? I don’t fucking know but you’re gonna do it.”

Tai pushed Qrow off of him. “This isn’t a romance novel, Qrow. And anyway, Raven might end up coming back. You don’t know.”

Qrow scowled. “She’s not coming back, Tai. You gotta move on.”

“You don’t _know_ that.”

“Tch. You share a womb with someone, then tell me what I don’t know. She’s not coming back. End of story.”

Ahead of them, Summer stopped her inspection and sighed. “Qrow, would you lay off? Raven has always been a wildcard, you can’t predict her actions any better than someone else could. Anyway, you can’t be sure that Ironwood will just fall on board with this marriage any more than Tai is. Maybe he has his own lost love he’s pining for.  _ You _ don’t know, either.”

“Then more fool him if he is,” Qrow snapped. “There’s no such thing as lost love. Either he walked out on someone and thus never loved them to begin with, or someone walked out on him and he needs to  _ move on.” _ This last was punctuated by a jab in Tai’s shoulder. “No one who walks out on someone deserves to be pined over, not Raven, not— anyone. And if you pine anyway you’re an idiot.”

The two men swapped an argument in expressions, missing the smirk on Summer’s face as she turned back to her inspections.

-/-

The sun had long set by the time the ship landed. James and Glynda were met at the docks by a man in a white coat and a sign that said ‘Ironwood’ in large, glittery letters.

“Roman Torchwick,” he said, tossing the sign aside as soon as they’d joined him. “Summer sent me to collect you.”

“Are you the estate’s driver?” James asked.

“No, I’m just doing Summer a favor. The estate doesn’t have a driver, since there’s not really anyone in residence who actually needs driving around.”

“Miss Rose and I may need to speak about our staffing situation, then,” James said, opening the door and gesturing for Glynda to get in first, then sliding into the seat with her. “It hadn’t occurred to me she might not be keeping a full contingency in the absence of a master of the house.”

“You could just drive yourself, you know,” Torchwick said from the front seat. “It’s not like it’s hard.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I wasn’t necessarily talking about a driver.”

“All right, all right, point taken.” Torchwick smirked at him in the mirror. “I’ll stay up here and leave important matters between the fancy important people.”

James glowered, and remained so for the rest of the ride back to the estate. When Torchwick pulled the car up to the front steps, though, his attention was immediately turned away to the young woman who met them. He’d spoken to her a few times via scroll, but this was the first time he’d met her in person, and he was taken aback by how small she was: comically so, beside his own stature. He gave her a reassuring smile and took her hand in both of his.

“Miss Rose,” he said. “It’s good to finally meet you in person.”

“And the same to you, Mr. Ironwood.” She turned her attention to Glynda, who had joined them. “And your companion?”

“Glynda Goodwitch,” James said, and the two women bowed lightly to each other in greeting. “She’ll be remaining here till at least the winter Solstice.”

“It’s always good to have a familiar face around for these major transitional periods of our life,” Summer agreed, turning and guiding them inside and up the stairs to their rooms. “But also important to make new friends. To which end I have arranged a dinner party among your neighbors tomorrow evening, as we spoke of already. There are half a dozen guests in all, including Taiyang Xiaolong, who I’m told you may remember from childhood.”

“Tai?” Glynda said, startled. “James, you didn’t tell me—“

“You know him?”

“We were at teaching school together. I didn’t realize he was the Xiaolong you meant when you told me…”

James smiled. “Small world, isn’t it?” And added, to Summer, “It seems that both of us will be happy to see Taiyang again.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know. Miss Goodwitch, this is your room—“ They’d stopped outside a grand bedroom; they bid Glynda goodnight, and Summer carried on leading James to the master bedrooom.

As a child, James had run the length of the corridor between master bedroom and nursery nearly every morning in order to wake his parents before his father’s man brought in their morning tea and beat him, and yet no matter how early he woke, he never quite managed to.  Now he stopped in the doorway and looked over a room that seemed far less grand and encompassing than he’d thought when looking at it through his child’s eyes.

There was a man in the room. He was in the process of moving James’ clothes to his wardrobe, so his back was currently to them. Summer gestured.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of hiring you a valet for your visit. I don’t keep a full staff here, so he’ll pick up any slack left regarding your personal routine. Qrow—“ she added, and the man turned, and James took an involuntary step back.

It was  _ him. _ The past ten years had changed him somewhat— he’d lost all the gangliness of youth, was now long and lean and moved with sureness. But those eyes— James had seen them in his dreams for a decade.

“This is Qrow Branwen,” Summer said. “Qrow, James Ironwood.”

“Qrow,” James breathed, taking a few slow steps forward. “That’s your name?”

Something unreadable passed over Qrow’s face, a hundred emotions that James couldn’t even begin to identify, and then a blank eyebrow of interest. “Yes? I know it’s not conventional, but it’s mine.”

“Qrow,” James repeated, and softly, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Qrow tilted his head. “Sorry, do I know you?”

James took a step back again. He felt like his world had shattered with those five words. He covered a discreet cough with one fist. “My apologies. We met in Mantel, about ten years ago. I attended one of your performances as Scareqrow. Obviously I— remember the event more readily than you.”

“Obviously,” Qrow echoed. “Well, uh. If there’s nothing you need, I gotta get back to work here, so…” He half turned back to the trunks he was unpacking, glanced at James, and then returned to his work.

James made to turn back to Summer, and was startled to find her gone. “Miss Rose?”

“She probably had to get back to work too,” Qrow said, not turning back from the dresser drawer he was now filling with— James’ neck burned to realize— James’ underwear. “I can go find her, if you want.”

“No, that’s all right. I’ll— I’ll just go shower. It’s been a long day.”

“Sure.”

He got back to his work once more, and James headed into the bathroom, pleased to find that someone— Summer, most likely— had had the foresight to lay out a towel and the other toiletries he’d need. He let out a long, slow breath, and turned the water on, and carefully didn’t think about the fact that a man he’d loved for nearly a decade was in the next room and didn’t even remember him.

-/-

Once he heard the shower switch on, Qrow slipped out of the room and hurried down the corridor, finding Summer loitering nearby with one of the maids. She gave him a warm smile when he caught up.

“Do you need something?”

“Well—“ He paused, and glanced at the maid. “Beat it.”

The maid curtsied hastily and hurried off, while Summer turned a glare on Qrow.

“That was uncalled for,” she said firmly. “You wouldn’t speak to the staff at home like that and you  _ certainly _ won’t with mine.”

“Yeah yeah, tell her I’m sorry.  _ Listen. _ Ironwood— it’s  _ him. _ The guy.”

“What guy?”

_ “The _ guy!” Qrow said, snapping his fingers insistently. “The guy from Mantel! From when I was a singer.”

“Ohhh, you mean the gorgeous heartless punk who swept you off your feet and broke your heart? James?” She raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Are you sure about that? I mean… he doesn’t exactly seem… punkish.”

Qrow snorted, and didn’t say any of the cynical things he was thinking about seeming in regard to James Ironwood. Instead, “Look, it’s him. I’d know him anywhere, and you heard him, he recognizes me.”

“Hmm, fair enough. Well. Isn’t this fortuitous?” She smiled brightly up at him. Qrow’s frown deepened.

“What’s fortuitous about it? Summer, I never wanted to see him again. Not after what he did.”

“Maybe this is a good chance to learn his side of the story,” Summer suggested. “See what he thinks happened. Maybe it turns out he’s been pining just as much as you have.”

Qrow glared. “I have  _ not _ been pining over him!”

Summer shrugged and turned to leave. “Whatever, Qrow. I have work to do and so do you, we can talk about this later. And don’t forget to apologize to Sylvain!”

“Who?”

“The  _ maid, _ asshole,” and she rounded a corner and he knew he was dismissed. He sighed, and spun on his heel to return to James’ room.

-/-

The shower had just switched off when Qrow got back to the room. He dug out a pair of pajamas and some underthings and headed into the bathroom, giving a single warning knock and a few seconds before entering, in case James had turned body shy in the last decade.

James had his back to the door when Qrow came in, trying to clear some steam off of the mirror with his towel, and didn’t seem to have heard Qrow knocking or entering.

“Maiden of Spring,” Qrow swore hoarsely, eyes roaming over every inch of the bare body in front of him. The youthfully soft form his hands had mapped ten years ago had been replaced: on one side by taut, firm muscle, on the other by an expanse of metal.

James heard and turned, then made a startled noise and hastily wrapped his towel around his waist.

“Sorry, I— I didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I just— I brought you your clothes. Cause— cause that’s my j-job now.”

James was even more beautiful from the front, Qrow decided, with his towel held on so loosely on his hips. His flesh-and-blood half was pink, whether from the shower or embarrassment, Qrow couldn’t tell, with the metal half coated in steam. A droplet of water was pooling in the scarred seam where metal met flesh, and Qrow found his eyes drawn to that droplet, fascinated and a little aroused.

“Please stop staring,” he said softly, and Qrow snapped his gaze up, but that wasn’t good either, because he just met James’ eyes, those blue blue eyes that he’d dreamed about more than he liked to admit. He turned his gaze to the floor instead, staring at a spot on the tile, as that seemed safest.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ll— I’ll just— I’ll go.” And with that, he set the clothes on the edge of the tub and- there was no other word for it- fled from the bathroom.

Out in the corridor, Qrow leaned back against the wall and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, taking deep, steadying breaths to get a grip on himself. There was something about James’ voice back there, the sheer vulnerability, that had shot straight through the fractures James had left on his heart ten years ago and reminded him that he had loved this man once, not to mention that he was more beautiful now than Qrow remembered—

—but none of that  _ mattered, _ it didn’t  _ matter. _ James was more than a pretty face, more than a quiet vulnerability. He’d still walked away without a word and Qrow would be a fool twice over to fall for him all over again just because—

Qrow made a frustrated noise and pushed off from the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets and slouching down the corridor in the general direction of the servants’ stairwell that would take him to his room. He wasn’t going to fall for James again just because he was beautiful and vulnerable, he wasn’t going to be drawn in by those eyes all over again. He was going to stay strong, whatever it took.

He huffed. Too bad he’d promised Mother no more drinking until he’d paid off his debt.

So,  _ almost _ whatever it took.

-/-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD I've missed ghost-describing James.

**Author's Note:**

> Yooooo, who wants to come over to tumblr @grifalinas and cry about James Ironwood and Ironqrow with me? You! You know it!


End file.
